Mommy Blog

The Greatest Generation

in Giggles on June 28, 2022

Last Friday I said goodbye to my last living grandparent.

When I was born, I was a fifth generation baby on both sides of the family. When my children were born, they too, were fifth generation babies on both sides.

However, as the circle of life spun forward, we quickly lost key players in my incredibly long life-lines.

My grandfather was the lone holdout.

He passed at the age of 98.

He lived through the Great Depression. World War II. The assassination of JFK. The Challenger explosion…and countless other world events.

He was married for over SEVENTY years. He raised six children. He loved his Lord and his family…

He loved me.

Grandparents have a tendency to lavish love upon their grandchildren. My grandparents were no exception. The extraordinary part about a seemingly simple statement is the gap my grandparents needed to fill for me. I have a complicated relationship with my parents.

My parents divorced when I was very young…so young, that I have no memories of them ever living together. Because of that, my mother had to raise me alone. This provided difficult circumstances for us. My mother’s parents and her grandparents stepped up and stepped in to help care for me.

My father’s parents lived in another state; which made helping with my daily life a near impossibility. They were, however, instrumental in creating some of my fondest and most cherished memories of summer. It was my Florida grandfather who recently passed…and with him, passed my remaining champion, my sole survivor, my unbreakable bond of love and acceptance. He was the last of the greatest generation in my family.

Let me explain…

I was the first product of divorce on both sides of the family. This resulted in an abundant supply of confusion from aunts, uncles, cousins, and even my own parents. What do we DO with Dallas? Poor Dallas, her parents are divorced.

I was a physical and living reminder of an irreconcilable break in our family structure. I realize that I was not the cause of my parents’ divorce; I was simply the tangible leftovers of what could have been—but wasn’t.

That made people uncomfortable. It still makes people uncomfortable.

My grandparents never showed any hesitation to include me in their plans. My maternal grandparents and great-grandparents were a constant source of love, acceptance, and strength for me. My paternal grandparents enriched my faith, my memories and they ceaselessly prayed for me.

As I prepared for the trip to Florida, all of my memories from summer vacations to the beach, learning to swim in my grandparents’ pool, and helping my grandmother lead a Special Needs Sunday school class filled my heart. I’m thankful for all of those happy memories because they acted as a talisman—a protector of sorts to shore me up against one of the most—if not THE most uncomfortable situation of my life.

I knew family from across the country would fly in to pay their respects to my grandfather. This included his oldest son, my father.

I have not seen, nor spoken to this man in more than fifteen years.

Fifteen years.

Our first meeting in almost two decades was to be over the casket of his father. Suffice to say, I was nervous. What do you say to someone who is biologically connected to you, but wholeheartedly decided to break that connection along your DNA lines?

The short answer to that question is: Not much.

While my father and his wife seemed mildly curious about me, they made it perfectly clear that their curiosity stopped at cordial small talk. I knew that would be the case before my plane touched down in the Sunshine State. But, knowing something and experiencing that thing are two completely different things.

Throughout the required mixers associated with a patriarchal funeral, I dutifully attended, yet somehow I still remained on the outside. I watched my cousins pose for pictures around a flag-draped casket with their parents. I watched my own father take that picture without a single glance in my direction. My entire family watched that, averted their eyes, and said nothing.

I have always been outside the circle. It didn’t matter which side of the family I was with…Texas or Florida. Through the years I have learned to manage my expectations of family functions, and for the most part, I’ve done a good job. But, on some days, like last Friday, the outside is a cold place to be—even in the summer heat of Southern Florida.

I know this post has been sort of a downer…I apologize for that. I didn’t share my story to extort pity or sympathy from anyone. I shared my experience to actually provide hope to anyone who has been in my situation or something similar.

It is true that I have some specifically shaped holes in my heart, and if I’m being honest, those holes will never fully fill in. But, because of the love I received from a multitude of grandparents and the faith they shared with me, I have built a solid and happy life.

My husband is my best friend…followed closely by my daughter. My sons are a great source of pride and protection. My bonus kiddos (the significant others of my kids) are an added blessing from God. I am safe and I am okay, despite the hardships of childhood.

If you are reading this, and have experienced this type of pain and abandonment, please do not let it define you. You are worth your weight in the riches of a life that cannot be found here. It took me a long time to really understand that my worth—my value—comes not from an earthly father, but a heavenly One.

I received closure this past weekend. Closure for a severely damaged and dysfunctional relationship. I’m thankful for that. For years I’ve lived with questions of what if.

What if I reached out to him?

What if I told him how I feel?

What if he actually wants a relationship with me?

I asked all of those questions, and received a resounding no, as my answer. And that’s okay. There’s peace in knowing.

Today I want to encourage you to find your peace. Surround yourself with people who love you and like you for simply being you. Have a great week.